


Not the Privy

by Regret_Pile



Series: Bowels of Thedas [2]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Chamber Pots, Diarrhea, F/F, Scat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-28
Updated: 2015-10-28
Packaged: 2018-04-28 14:14:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5093726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Regret_Pile/pseuds/Regret_Pile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They'd agreed not to use the bedroom chamber pot for that, but Merrill isn't well.  And, for that matter, is a bit of an exhibitionist.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not the Privy

Before she awoke, Adrienne Hawke dreamed someone was playing an off-key trumpet and throwing mud against a wall. The first thing she noticed was that Merrill was not there to curl up against. The second was the smell. This was familiar. Either she or Bethany would sometimes wake the other up with a nighttime shit. In fact, Bethany, every the early riser, would make a point of 'punishing' Adrienne for sleeping late by using their chamberpot to move her morning bowels.

"Merrill," she said, still half-asleep, "we've agreed to use the privy for, er, this."

It was a matter of pride, to be honest. She had a separate privy, finally. She'd never had that. For the first time in her life, the smell of shit wasn't suddenly invading her living space. It felt...wealthy.

The immediate answer was a long, wet fart, and the sound of sludgy fecal matter forcefully hitting metal.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," said Merrill, "I honestly couldn't make it."

Hawke lifted her head and looked up. Merrill was squatted over the chamber pot, clutching her stomach. She was completely naked. Even like this, she was beautiful.

"Are...are you alright?" The smell was truly rank. The piercing sulfur of the elf's gas almost, but not entirely covered the rotten-meat stink of her shit.

Another fart rang out, loud, sputtering and...ugh, strong.

"I've had worse. Honestly, I'm a bit used to my stomach doing this by now." Merrill was as upbeat as ever. "The food your people eat is so greasy, compared to what we have at Sundermount. Those meat pies at the hanged man...they're practically out before they're in." She giggled.

She winced, and another violent splatter sounded. Thinking back, Hawke realized that maybe she should have known this already. Merrill's gas could strip paint--though Hawke was too much of a lady to say anything--and she'd dash off to the privy quite often on a given day.

"I'm actually--" a watery fart--"ugh, pleased to be finally be, er, the vulgar word is 'shitting,' right? To be--" splatters--"oh dear--doing this in front of you. In Sundermount you just sort of did it in the woods, and it was some of the only real privacy you'd get. So, you go to shit, and then you, er, the elvish term is tar'tharan, you know, touch yourself. Or you take someone pretty to shit, and then you kiss. Not everyone actually shitted, but I always did."

She paused to bear down and blast out a wave of semi-liquid waste, bookended by two massive farts. Hawke had begun to feel some pressure in her own abdomen. Hopefully Merrill wouldn't be too much longer.

"Oh, now I'm impressing myself." she giggled again. "The first girl I kissed, she made the most massive shits. Perfectly solid, all one piece. I was jealous. I passed wind better, though."

Hawke's jaw hung slack. This was certainly intimate, in a sense, but she hadn't expected Merrill to be...well, honestly, she didn't know what to say about this. "The, um past tense is 'shit' or 'shat.' Not 'shitted.'" Sure. That would do.

"Thank you. Anyway, I just always liked sharing this with people I liked. Or loved. You know, like you." Somehow, she still had more in her, as another fart and splatter sounded.

"How is all of that coming out of you? You're tiny."

"I stretch."

Hawke would definitely have to go herself, soon. "I, er, don't suppose you'd want to watch me? Er, shortly?" A fart squeaked out of her.

"Oh, I'd like that so much!" Merrill looked as happy as Hawke had seen her.

Two more farts blew into the pot, followed by a small trickle of runny shit. "I think I'm done. That was a bit of an ordeal." No kidding.

The only thing available to wipe with was a rag generally reserved for wiping one's front. Merrill used it anyway. "Your turn, Vhenan." She giggled.

Hawke looked down into the pot. It was nearly half-full with a brown slurry. Maker, that was a big shit. She squatted, let out a single fart and began to let a turd squeeze out.

"Pick up your bum," said Merrill, "I can't see anything."

Hawke obliged. The first turd splashed into Merrill's waste, followed by two more. It was all over quickly, compared to the elf's epic performance.

The rag was pretty thoroughly smeared. Hawke folded it as best she could, but she was fairly certain that at least a little of Merrill's shit would get smeared between her cheeks. She wiped, and was proven right.

Merrill made a small cooing noise. "It's like our bottoms kissed!"

"You," said Hawke, "are absolutely perverse."


End file.
